


with just one sakura kiss

by ShatterinSeconds



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, Bisexual Lance (Voltron), Cuban Lance (Voltron), Domestic Fluff, Edo Period, Fluff, Gay Keith (Voltron), Japanese Culture, Japanese Keith (Voltron), M/M, Samurai Keith, ronin keith, set near the very end of edo/very beginning of meiji japan, us navy officer lance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-07
Updated: 2019-06-07
Packaged: 2020-04-12 10:20:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,044
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19130050
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShatterinSeconds/pseuds/ShatterinSeconds
Summary: “What’s your name?” the navy officer asks.Keith’s true name is gone. Kogane Akira died the minute he decided to step away from samurai status and wander… the decision was cheaper on his pockets and lighter for his soul. He doesn’t regret it. “Kīsu,” he replies.Lance scrunches his nose in confusion. “Kiss?” Blush peppers the man’s cheeks during the quick misunderstanding. Interesting.Keith scowls with a shake of his head and puts all his effort into his pronunciation. “Ki-Keith.”(or, a fic featuring ronin!Keith and navy officer!Lance set in late 1800s Japan)





	with just one sakura kiss

**Author's Note:**

> Did I sacrifice some historical accuracy for aesthetic? Probably. Do I regret it? No. Also, please ignore how good Keith is at English (I tried to give an explanation but idk how well it holds up), thank you.
> 
> Happy Pride Month!!! Hope you all enjoy this fic:)
> 
> (Title from the OP for OHSHC)

 

“Sharp work, samurai,” are the first words Keith hears from the officer’s mouth. Immediately he realizes the officer is American, mostly from the color of his uniform and the way English flows so readily off his tongue. There is something of an accent though and Keith has to focus to understand what is being said.

The battle that preceded these words had been quick. So quick that it wasn’t even a battle… a scuffle maybe? A group of men, mostly likely _shishi,_ had circled the navy officer like vultures spying their already dead prey. The man’s naivety had brought him into that type of situation, but Keith felt pity for the unsuspecting foreigner. He whacked the leader in the forehead with the butt of his sword, watching the larger man tumble into the dirt with a bruised face and wounded pride.

It didn’t take long for the other four to follow suit.

Despite the good deed, Keith leaves after he hears the stranger speak to him, sandals kicking up dust as he hurries away, not wanting the _shishi_ to return with a vengeance and definitely not wanting to meet the foreigner. The stranger doesn’t understand the silent message, it seems, having been stupid enough to follow Keith to a less crowded area of the port market.

No wonder he was almost eaten alive. Keith finally faces the man, fingers loose on his sword that nicks the ground. He is grateful he hasn’t bothered to sheath it yet.

A gentle smile sits on the man’s face as he stops a few feet in front of Keith. “Do you, uh, do you speak English?” The officer cocks his head, studying Keith. Eyes drift over his sword and his hair, half falling from the tie and half remaining away from his eyes, and his dark _yukata,_ which has collected dust from the roads.

Keith analyzes the man in return.

He never thought of the foreign men at the ports as beautiful. Their hair was always an odd color, their noses too big, words too loud and gruff, eyes full of disdain for the area they were stationed in. This man has none of those qualities. His skin is darker than what Keith is used to seeing, eyes a midnight blue but full of joy and willingness to experience something new. Soft waves of short brown locks frame his face, the sun practically alighting golden strands weaved into his hair. A war could be fought over this man, Keith believes, remembering some translated tales of knights and princesses.

 _Kami-sama_ , save him.   

This newly widened world is too much for Keith. He had grown up in a time where foreigners were a threat, unwanted and demonized. Now they land on their shores, trade at their ports, and cause all sorts of trouble with no repercussions. This is the type of world Keith lives in, and his skin itches from its unfamiliarity.

“No,” Keith says automatically, almost hissing at his miscalculation.

The American officer grins. “So you do know some, at least, enough to understand me.”

Grip tightening on the hilt of his sword, Keith steps backwards. “If you try anything, I will not hesitate.” He has heard stories, of what officers like to do, especially when drunk. Though this officer doesn’t appear to be drunk, Keith doesn’t want to take the chance--he knows he could pass as a girl if someone did not look too closely, with his long hair and rounder features that have yet to square out if they ever will. He knows what some officers do to the unsuspecting girls they see.

Something in Keith’s words or stance must clue the stranger in for he hastily holds up his hands and ardently shakes his head. “I just wanted to thank you… for saving my life.”

“They were harmless,” Keith says. The group of _shishi_ had only been heckling the officer but it had made Keith uncomfortable to watch.

“You helped me; I owe you a debt now.” Keith wants to tell the officer that they will never see each other again--that Keith doesn’t _want_ to see him again. But before he can respond, a calloused hand is thrust out in front of him, the man’s words accompanying it. “I’m Lance.”

So informal and so foreign. The name feels strange on Keith’s tongue; he doesn’t try to repeat it. Yet, he finds himself sheathing his sword, it becoming a familiar weight as it rests near his hip, and he gingerly grasps the man’s hand.

“What’s your name?”

Keith’s true name is gone. Kogane Akira died the minute he decided to step away from samurai status and wander… the decision was cheaper on his pockets and lighter for his soul. He doesn’t regret it. “ _Kīsu,_ ” he replies.

Lance scrunches his nose in confusion. “Kiss?” Blush dots the man’s cheeks during the quick misunderstanding. Interesting.

Keith scowls with a shake of his head and puts all his effort into his pronunciation. “ _Ki-Keith.”_ It was a name he picked up from loitering around the ports during the early days of his new, self-appointed status; the sound of it was pleasant to his ears.

“It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

With the man’s soothing tone washing over him--something of an oddity from foreigners when he has the displeasure of speaking with them--Keith’s gaze lingers on their clasped hands. He had thought a handshake was a quick exchange; this has lasted more than a minute. Yet Lance is the one who pulls back first.    

Aiming a harsh glare at the officer, Keith speaks his words as carefully as he can, already preparing to move on. “Do not follow me.”

 

 

Lance follows him. It is a week later, at most, but Keith catches the man out of the corner of his eye. Stopped at one of the market stalls, Lance barters in _extremely_ broken Japanese for some fruit. Keith knows this is most likely a ruse to keep him in his sights--Keith doesn’t have proof only intuition--so he doesn’t understand why he finds himself stepping towards the man to help. With a few quick words in Japanese, Keith has the fruit in Lance’s hands, and the intended coins fall into the vendor’s.

The grateful look in Lance's eyes causes Keith to deepen his scowl. “Much obliged.” Lance smiles, ducking his head for a moment.

Not bothering with a response, Keith rotates on his heel and continues wandering around the port. A companion unwelcomingly matches his pace.

"Do I have to repeat myself?" Keith asks when he swings around to meet Lance.

Shaking his head, Lance makes a muffled sound as he stuffs a few pieces of fruit in his mouth. Keith waits for him to swallow. "I thought you may have wanted some company. If my presence is unwanted, I will leave."

Even if Keith has only known this officer for five minutes, somehow he believes Lance when he says he will leave, if Keith voices such a sentiment. But that is precisely why Keith hesitates with his response.

An initial reply rests on his tongue but then he changes it when his eyes catch on to something odd about the man standing before him. “Your... uniform.” Keith stares at the button-up shirt and dark trousers with confusion. It is nothing like what Lance wore the other day--these strange clothes paint him in a softer light.

Caught off guard by Keith’s statement, Lance has to look down to see what he chose to wear before answering. “Ah yes. I have three weeks of leave. Off duty.”

“Oh.”

Despite Keith’s monosyllabic response, Lance views this as permission to carry on a longer conversation. “Are you occupied with anything today?”

When Keith opens his mouth, he is completely prepared to lie, but instead, he says, “No.”

“As you have noticed--” Lance awkwardly rubs the back of his neck, and a sheepish smile appears “--my Japanese is not up to par. I was wondering if you wa--”

“I’m not an errand boy,” Keith snaps, lips curling into a snarl. Maybe he is about to retract everything he has thought about this man. Maybe Lance is _exactly_ like all the others. Keith’s hand folds into a fist as if he forgot about his own sword.

“No, no,” Lance ardently explains, “I meant, to accompany me as a companion. Someone to walk around with.”

The hurried elaboration satisfies Keith’s growing anger quicker than he thought possible. At least, Lance remains the man Keith originally perceived him as, naive and weird but also gentle, kind. A presence that can be tolerated. "It would not be ah... terrible. Walking with you.” Keith’s lips twist at his own words. “I will help with your chores."

Bemusement becomes apparent on Lance’s features, an eyebrow quirking upwards. "You sound as if this is a burden for you."

Keith levels a deadpan glare at him. "Yes."

And Keith leads Lance through the market, one hand always resting on the hilt of his sword while the other hangs freely beside him. He knows which vendors will serve foreigners and those who will not; Lance’s tasks immediately become easier to accomplish. By the time the day reaches noon, sun resting perfectly above them, the amount of small talk that has passed between them has been more exhausting than walking around.

"What do you do for a living?" Lance asks another question. The man, Keith realizes, never wants to leave the air silent around him, always striking up a conversation. Lance gestures to his sword. "Samurai?"

Keith has to shake his head; Lance is a few years too late with that description. " _Ronin_ ." He stops for a moment, spying Lance's peaked eyebrow. "I, uh, I _used_ to be a samurai but am one no longer."

"Your sword work is beautiful." Lance’s gaze, almost hungrily in a sense, rakes over the hilt and sheathed blade by Keith’s hip.

"You seem… jealous," Keith smirks, feeling the need to goad the officer.

Lance blinks in thought but then shakes his head. "Firearms are more my specialty."

Keith bites his lower lip, nodding slowly as he absorbs the information. "Shame." He opens his mouth again--maybe to inquire more about Lance’s specialty or maybe, for some reason, to make sure the conversation remains lively--but ends up cursing so hard in Japanese that Lance whips his head around. Even if he doesn’t understand what was just spoken, the tone of a curse sounds the same in any language.

“What?” Lance asks, startled. His body becomes rigid.

“The men. They are back.” With double the group and who knows how many more in the crowd waiting to jump them. They weave in and out, lazily sweeping the market area for both of them. Keith inwardly curses for getting himself involved in another man’s fight. These men are no longer only after Lance.

“Have they seen us?” Standing behind Keith, Lance attempts to move for a better vantage point to see the men, but Keith thrusts out his arm, instead pushing Lance further into the shadows. They crouch low in hopes to avoid the roaming gazes.

“No but it is no longer safe here.” He angles his gaze away from the market towards Lance behind him. The other has placed a hand on his shoulder, whether for balance or comfort, Keith is not certain but he shakes Lance’s grip off either way. Loud shouts suddenly break their locked stare. “I know a place. Trust me?”

“I do.”

They do not hesitate to run.

 

 

It takes a few hours to reach the place Keith has in mind. The one permanent location in his life. He tries to visit at least once every month when he needs a rest, but the important thing is that the place has been forgotten by the locals. So deep in the woods and overgrown, most do not know it ever existed. Those who did have long since died.

Lance’s feet pound beside him as they make quick work of their escape, leaving the group of _shishi_ men far behind. Spotting a familiar outcropping of trees to the right and a dirt path, Keith reaches out to place a hand on Lance’s arm, slowing the man’s pace.

“Here.”

“I owe you two now,” Lance says offhandedly as they walk into the woods.

Waving a hand to dismiss Lance’s comment, Keith focuses on the path ahead. “No favor owed.”

A hand grasps his upper arm, stopping him in his tracks. “You have risked so much for me.”

“I did what anyone else would have done.” Keith stares at Lance--his inquisitive eyes and kind smile catching onto the sun’s rays.

Lips parting, a whisper leaves Lance’s mouth. “It had been only _you_ who acted.”  

He misses Lance’s warmth when his hand falls from Keith’s arm, which is insane. Clearly he has gone insane. “We should keep moving.”

A few more minutes in silence, they reach a clearing with a humble house surrounded by trees. It’s only a few rooms large but a fresh water well sits next to it. And the place is secluded, the important part. Keith stops at the well, splashing water onto his face to rid himself of the daily sweat and grime on his skin. The cool water drips down his features and plasters some of his hair in front of his eyes; he pushes it out of the way before he turns back towards Lance.  

The man in question has continued to walk on without Keith, as if having been tethered to a rope that is being reeled in. His shoes have sunk into the soft dirt, leaving footprints for Keith to follow. The path Lance followed is worn and familiar, and Keith can’t help but smile at what Lance has been drawn towards.

An old Shinto shrine is nestled in another small, open area between the grouping of trees. Moss has grown over most of the wood, which is constantly damp and has been eaten away over the years. A plaque proclaiming the god who resides there still stands and an offering had been placed inside earlier that month.

“This is…” Lance suddenly stops for a moment, eyes flickering over the hidden paradise. Birds sing and the trees dance with the wind. A patch of sunlight illuminates Lance and the shrine equally. “ _Beautiful._ Though, I would have expected to see… what do you call them? Sakura trees, blossoms?”

“You are… a few months too late,” Keith answers, a couple feet away from Lance, “They do not last long but they are lovely.”

“A shame that beautiful things in life can not withstand time.”

“It only means we must enjoy the beauty for as long as we are able to,” Keith replies, not quite understanding where such a response came from. Staring at Lance, truly staring at Lance, who has chosen to stand in Keith’s own little world despite coming from another, has unburied a feeling Keith didn’t know he possessed.  

Lance watches for a moment, his gaze calculating, cataloging every word Keith had spoken to decipher the meaning behind the answer. If he discovers one, Lance keeps it to himself and changes the topic. “This is quite a unique place to have discovered on your own.”

“My brother’s family used to maintain this area,” Keith explains as Lance walks away from the shrine and towards him. “But a sickness wiped out most of the people in the village.”

“Most?” Lance comments on the precise word choice of Keith’s statement.

“Two boys survived.”

“You… and your brother?” Lance accurately guesses.

Keith confirms this with added information that may not be necessary but he feels he should clarify nevertheless. “He’s not my brother by… how do you say it? By blood? But yes.”

“We are alone then?”

“If you are worried about _shishi_ finding you here, they will not.”

“You are a marvel,” Lance replies honestly, bowing his head in respect. “I can’t help but thank you again.”

“I do this for both of us. Now follow me. You need clean clothes,” Keith comments, gesturing to Lance as they walk back to the main area. He roughly ties his hair back, slips off his sandals, and begins going through the house. A thin layer of dirt and dust has already covered the floor but that will be cleaned in no time--his feet leave visible patches on the wood.

He turns to see if Lance remains in tow only to growl at the sight before him. “What are you _doing_?” Keith voices suddenly, stopping Lance in his tracks.

The man in question has one foot into the house with his clunky shoes on. He lifts his head only to tilt it; confusion swims in his eyes. “Um, am I not allowed in? I thought you said I could follow.”

Keith marches over and shoves Lance lightly in the chest. “Out. No shoes.”

At least Lance has the mindfulness to appear apologetic, a wince ticking at his lips. “Ah, my apologies.”

Once Keith catches sight of both shoes placed near the sliding door, he gestures for Lance to re-enter and leaves him for a moment. There’s only a slight worry inside Keith’s mind that Lance will cause more trouble. In a chest towards the back wall lies a few extra _yukatas_ and Keith pulls out the longest one he has to bring to Lance. With Lance a few inches taller than him, Keith doubts the clothing will fit perfectly, but it is better than having him stay in his filthy clothes for however long they’ll be here.

Truly, it’s for Keith’s benefit. He doesn’t want to be living with someone who smells of too many unwashed days.

Lance eagerly grabs the garment from Keith’s hands; it falls from its folded state as he holds it up between them. A frown quickly settles on his lips. “I--I do not know how to wear one of these.”

Keith’s lips curl upwards. “I can help.”

He leaves Lance alone to wash up for a moment, wandering around his house to find any brooms or cleaning rags he has stored somewhere. By the time Lance returns, he has a decent pile of rags and an old broom at his disposal. A light tap on his shoulder alerts him to Lance’s presence.

His brown hair is soaked, water trickling down his jaw and dotting the material. The garment hangs perfectly on Lance’s shoulders, though the sleeves and hem fall just short of where they are supposed to be. Lance left it open though, bare chest and undergarment visible. Keith walks towards Lance, keeping his gaze away from those blue eyes as he drapes the left panel over the right and ties the _obi_ low on his waist.

When Keith finishes, Lance unexpectedly twirls, the material briefly lifting off his legs as his bare feet stick to the floor, only slightly hindering the action. He comes to a stop with his arms out wide and cheeks slightly flushed. “How do I look?”

 _“Lovely_ ,” Keith says in Japanese, hands resting on the material as he smooths it free of wrinkles--it doesn’t have any--while Lance responds with,

“What does that mean?”

“Ah.” Keith stills his movements, inwardly mortified at his accidental slip. “Uh, similar to funny, silly…”

“Rude.” Lance pouts. “Women have told me that I look attractive in anything.”

“Only women?” Keith inquires despite himself.

A smirk crawls onto Lance’s face. “No, not just women.”

“Hm.”

“‘Hm’? What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You’ll find out… probably.” Keith steps away from the man, deeming his work complete. “But we have chores.” A pitched noise escapes from Lance’s throat as he returns to pouting, and Keith sets him with a hard stare. “No whining. Use those muscles, sailor boy.” Keith tosses him the broom.   

 

 

When they eventually eat dinner together, a simple bowl of cooked rice, Keith concentrates more on laughing at Lance, who fails at using chopsticks, than eating his meal. Lance scowls when the rice falls back into the bowl.

“Here,” Keith says, holding out his own chopsticks with food nestled safely between them. They sit across from one another at the table, Keith resting on his legs and Lance crossing his own. A few candles light the room.

“You don’t have to feed me,” Lance grumbles but eyes Keith’s chopsticks anyways.

“I want to; it’s depressing, watching you.”

Lance gaze dips back down to his bowl, temptation gone. “I will eat with my hands if I must.”

Keith’s lips twist in disgust. “Not in my house you won’t.”

“I will never take forks or spoons for granted ever again.” With a dramatic sigh, Lance flops onto the floor, legs and arms spread out. He looks ridiculous.

Rolling his eyes, Keith walks to the other side of the table and presses on Lance’s chest with his bare foot. The man groans in surprise, not afraid to send a wounded glare to Keith above him. “Up,” Keith commands. “I’ll teach you.”

“I would rather you teach me how to use that sword of yours.”

“If you can not master chopsticks, you’re not worthy to even _hold_ a katana.” Keith steps on Lance’s chest again, adding an ounce more of pressure. “Up!”

Teaching goes as well as expected. Once Lance learned the ideal way to handle chopsticks the motions came easily. Though, his movements turn sloppy during the instances where Keith catches Lance’s gaze directed more at him than the rice. When Lance fully concentrates on his newly discovered chopstick abilities however, having been officially left to his own devices, he does not talk, and Keith sits in a blissful silence. That is, until Lance opens his mouth again to speak a few minutes later.

“Will we be sleeping together?”

Keith chokes on his rice, reaching for his cup of water to wash it down his throat. With a rasp, he says, “Tell me I understood wrong.”

“Your perverted mind is the only issue here.” Lance chuckles. “My question had only been about _sleeping_ . Though, as I hope my earlier allusion was received, I would also gladly be willing to sleep _with_ you.”

Forcing himself through the burning blush on his face, Keith attempts to ignore the man in front of him… and his tempting words. “I have one mattress. I doubt either of us would take the floor.”

“I promise to not steal the blankets.”

Keith narrows his eyes. “I should hope not; I would gut you.”

The statement causes Lance to laugh loudly, white teeth appearing through his smile. Keith’s stomach flips. This man is truly a wonder.

 

 

By the third day, they have created some sort of routine for themselves. A meal in the morning followed by chores, and once those are finished, it is time for dinner again. Their life stories, or maybe more accurately in Lance’s case, tall tales, are told between them to pass the time.  

While attending to one of the many chores, Lance will tuck a wild flower behind Keith’s ear. Sometimes the sweet scent from the flower will invade his nose, usually when a fresh breeze appears for a moment or two. It remains in his hair until they go to sleep--which, Keith is pleased to admit, Lance has held his promise of not stealing the blankets, and in fact, for two days in a row, Keith has found his arms--the traitors--wrapped around Lance’s waist when he wakes, having drawn the man close to his body during the night.

But night has fallen again and the air remains stagnant and cicadas sing, their first song of the season. A fresh sheen of sweat is laced over Keith’s skin as he rolls up the sleeves of his clothes in hopes of relieving the heat. Lance has changed back into his Western style clothing that he washed earlier in the morning to prevent the borrowed _yukata_ from becoming stale.

“Do you long for your home?” Keith asks in the silence, almost not expecting an answer.

The response comes not a second later. “Which one?”

Keith’s brow furrows in confusion, but Lance isn’t looking at him. His gaze focuses on the stars above them as they enjoy what the night offers. “I--I do not understand. Did I… misspeak?”

A quiet laugh escapes Lance’s lips. “I may live in America but my true home is Cuba. Ever heard of it?” Now his eyes flicker back to Keith, who shakes his head.

“I should bring you a map, or maybe an atlas, but it is an island off the coast of Florida… uh in the Caribbean?” Lance attempts to change his description when he sees Keith’s blank stare pressed on him. “It’s uh, it’s far from here.” Nodding in eventual understanding, Keith gives Lance the courage to continue speaking with a quiet hum. “The beaches are beautiful, white sand for miles and the bluest ocean water you’ll ever see. The people are the best part though. And my family.”

“You miss them,” Keith interrupts.

“Every day,” Lance quietly replies. He gently presses his fingers to his chest; the gesture piques Keith’s curiosity until he sees a shimmering golden chain around Lance’s throat. A memento of his family must reside under his clothing. Keith has never noticed it before and wonders briefly if Lance had left it off his person this entire time.  

“I used to be against learning English,” Keith begins, seemingly out of nowhere but Lance does not interrupt with any curious questions. “My brother, Shiro, taught me while he was learning to be a translator. Said studying with a friend always made it easier. Now, I’m glad I didn’t fight him.”

“I don’t think I understand…”

“If I didn’t learn,” Keith pauses for a moment to choose his words, “we would not be speaking right now.”

“Oh.”

With his hands pressed firmly on the wood of the steps, Keith leans in, daringly close to Lance’s face. “You believe you owe me a debt, but your presence has already repaid it ten times over.”

A hot flush springs up on Lance’s cheeks. They never break eye contact despite the nerves now tingling through Keith’s body. “I-I’m glad,” Lance stammers before finally returning to staring at the stars.

 

 

Towards twilight on the fourth day, Keith discovers Lance in front of the shrine again, kneeling--Keith has to roll his eyes at that; he’ll teach Lance the proper way to pray at some point--and maybe thinking, maybe contemplating life. The old offering has been replaced with a new one, something that had definitely been Lance’s doing.

For once, Lance notices Keith’s presence, shuffling on the ground to face Keith and staring up at him with a somewhat dopey smile.

Not sure about what type of response he will receive, Keith has to ask, "You... You like it here?"

As if shy of his answer, Lance moves his head with the tiniest of nods. "It's serene. Allows me to think for once." Finally, Lance stands, brushing dirt from his trousers, and suddenly Keith's personal space is invaded--Lance now a mere inch away. "I am not usually blunt about these things. Can't be where I'm from." Lance sucks in a breath, eyes fluttering closed for a moment and Keith begins to count all the eyelashes on his right eye. Then they open again. "I enjoy your company and I wouldn't mind being able to know you in every sense."

"Sex?" Keith recalls an earlier conversation during their meal a couple nights ago.

"Yes or only kisses, anything you're comfortable with."

"Hm," Keith says.

A small smile flickers on Lance's face. "Am I finally allowed to know what that means?"

Keith grips Lance's collar, causing the man to stumble into him. Laughter dazzles the space between them. Back pressed against one of the trees for support, Keith arches his head, lips teasingly brushing against Lance’s. His heart pumps wildly against Lance’s body.

“Do you think your gods are watching us?” Lance questions, his lips move to be near the shell of Keith’s ear as he whispers. No one else is around to hear him; even the gods have gone silent for them.

“They have better things to do then see who I kiss.”

“Is that so?” Lance smirks.

One of Keith’s eyebrows disappears behind his hair as he leans forward. “Do you want to keep talking or may I kiss you?”

“Kiss me, obvious--”

Keith’s hands automatically cup Lance’s face, drawing the man in. A hunger sparks when their lips connect, a gnawing sense growing inside him, and Lance’s fingers dig into the flesh of his back, a welcomed pressure. Those hands slide between the panels of his garment and land directly on Keith’s skin. Fire is ignited at every point of contact. Keith hums in pleasure against Lance’s lips. His _yukata_ is pushed off his shoulders, the material sliding down his skin to hang from his waist. Lance’s hands trail up Keith’s chest before wrapping themselves in his long hair--it has fallen from the ribbon and lands in waves down his shoulders.

When he jumps to, albeit haphazardly, wrap his legs around Lance’s waist, Lance immediately removing his hands to place them under Keith’s thighs for support, Keith says, “I would rather continue this indoors.” He threads his fingers through Lance’s hair, marveling at its softness.

Smirking, Lance’s lips trace Keith’s jawline before he responds. “Too afraid you will make the birds jealous?” He has already started walking to the house though, and Keith bounces in his grip with each step.

Keith tilts his head. “Is it a crime to have you all to myself?”

“It is not.” Lance dives in for another kiss, teeth nipping at Keith’s lower lip. Somehow he has the agility to handle walking and kissing at the same time without tripping, and Keith is grateful.

They drop together on the thin mattress, legs already tangled with each other. Lance’s head sinks into the pillow as Keith works on the other’s shirt, straddling his stomach before moving downward. The buttons come undone one by one after a couple of fumbles with the clothing and quiet laughter occupying the last bit of space between them.

“How far?” Lance asks. He brushes a lock of hair away from Keith’s cheek to tuck it behind his ear when he comes back face to face with Lance.

“As far as you will allow me to go. We are safe here.”

“I know. I have always felt safe with you.”

Keith leans down to kiss Lance again.

 

 

The morning light shines directly onto Keith’s face when he wakes. There are holes in the paper he still needs to patch apparently. Shielding his eyes for a moment, he grimaces before rolling over only to smack into Lance. The man had sprawled out across the mattress during the night, practically pushing Keith to the edge and floor. Even if there has been a bit of added pressure to his body with Lance’s bony knees, the extra person in the bed has been welcomed, despite the humid temperatures of the summer. Keith has woken up to loneliness for too long that he’s almost shocked Lance stayed all these nights and days and hasn’t returned to his ship.

He leaves the bed, giving Lance the rest he needs, and goes about his morning chores. Almost two hours pass before he hears shuffling coming from inside the home as Keith sits on the steps outside. Lance must finally be awake. Having washed his hair, Keith allows it to air dry, his hair hanging over his shoulder in one thick sheet. His fingers diligently work through any tangles.

“Wow,” Keith hears a breathy whisper from behind him. “You are beautiful every minute of the day, aren’t you?”

Keith stands to face Lance whose hair sticks up in wild clumps. Drool has dried to the corner of his mouth--it’s noticeable as he yawns. A crease or two from the sheets may have even imprinted themselves into his dark skin, creating patterns on his left cheek. He hasn’t even bothered to close the _yukata._  

“I wish I could say the same for you,” Keith teases. He stands, hair swinging against his back as he tames Lance’s mess for him. “Now you are just as pretty.”

“May I plait your hair?” Lance asks.

The request is… unexpected, but Keith smiles, though he moves away before Lance has a chance to kiss him good morning. “I will not stop you if you want to.”

“Wonderful.” Lance grins with a quick clap of his hands. Moving to sit in Keith’s previous spot, Lance taps the space below him. “Sit.”

Even before Keith rests on the ground, Lance’s hands weave into his hair. He cards through Keith’s long locks, not that there are any tangles to work through anymore, and then Keith feels his hair being pulled behind him. The discomfort from the tugging leaves Keith to grimace for a moment; when Lance senses Keith’s shoulders tensing, his movements slow, more gentle now.

“Sorry,” he apologizes immediately.

Keith lightly shakes his head. “It is fine.

The plaiting continues as Lance strikes up a conversation. “Your hair, it’s lovely.”

“Hmm, if you believe so.”

Without warning, a rush jolts through Keith’s body as Lance places a kiss on his neck. “I have the best luck in the world,” he mumbles.

“Luck?” Keith questions as he turns his head--with a slight protest from Lance who hasn’t finished the plait yet. “You were almost beaten the first time we met.”

“Exactly.” Lance wickedly grins. “And _you_ saved me. Luck.”

Keith runs his fingers over the bumps of the plait, completing it for Lance with the ribbon on his wrist. A few wisps of hair have escaped from the style; they tickle his skin when he moves. “Cray-zy,” Keith distinctly pronounces both syllables to poke Lance in the chest twice.

That grin only grows wider as Lance’s blue eyes shimmer. His finger taps Keith’s plait now draped over his shoulder. “It suits you,” Lance tells him, swooping in to peck Keith on the lips.

“I know.” Keith smiles against Lance’s mouth as he breaks away. “Your expression says everything.”

Lance quirks his lips. “I must try to remain a mystery then. To keep things interesting.”

“Don’t,” Keith says, “You are already interesting.” His thumb brushes away an eyelash on Lance’s cheek, palm resting on his face. With a pleasant hum, Lance leans into Keith’s hand.

Lance’s eyes flicker as he stares at Keith and quietly, a small breath shared between them, discloses that, “My break concludes in a weeks time. I will need to be back at the port by then.”

Keith knows Lance searches for a reaction, but there isn’t one to be found--while Keith is saddened by the inevitability of it, he also knew it would come. Beautiful things never last. Best not to dwell on the future or past; remain in the present. “It is a week away, and a week… a week is a long time.”

“It is.” Lance nods and rests his forehead against Keith’s. Closing his eyes, Keith places his free hand on Lance’s other cheek, drawing the man towards him. The sweet kiss tingles his lips, a sensation that flows through his entire body.

When he eventually opens his eyes, Keith discovers that Lance has closed his as well and they remain that way for now. Long eyelashes brush the tops of his cheekbones. There are too many to count so Keith decides it is time to speak instead. “I’d rather enjoy my time with you than worry about when you leave on the ship.”

“As do I.” Lance’s eyes snap open and suddenly he wraps his arms tight around Keith. A quick grunt of surprise releases from Keith’s throat but he soon gives in, nestling his nose into Lance’s neck, resting his head on Lance’s shoulder, and simply enjoying the warmth that spreads through his whole body.

“Can you uh--I want to hear it,” Keith says against Lance’s skin. “Your native language.”

With a soft smile against his hair, Lance speaks and Keith leans against his chest, listening. And maybe, finally, he’s starting to understand the world around him.

 _Kami-sama,_ thank you.

**Author's Note:**

> I was doodling samurai Keith a week ago and this whole AU popped in my head. I think I wrote this whole thing in three days lol. Hope you enjoyed!! 
> 
> Please leave comments and kudos:)


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